


Thicker Than Water

by VictoriaG16



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Absent Parents, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-29
Updated: 2013-10-29
Packaged: 2017-12-30 20:10:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1022881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VictoriaG16/pseuds/VictoriaG16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You don't realize it at age two, but by age seventeen, you know that these two women are all you have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thicker Than Water

**Author's Note:**

> I'm upset, as usual
> 
> Also, Seven is referred to as "Annika" because, let's be real folks, who the hell is going to name their children Samantha, Seven, and Naomi.

Your earliest memory is of you at age two. You're walking down a street between two much taller women. You look up and smile at Annika and Sam. They're your sisters and your entire world. You don't really _know_ anyone else -- there's the guy with the funny name who's nice to you, and a few of your sisters' friends, but you don't spend your life with them. You don't wake up to them tickling you, they don't make you pancakes in the morning, they don't dance around the kitchen laughing just because.

Your sisters do.

You're all taking a walk through the park, you swinging between their arms. The air is brisk but your sweater is warm around your arms and your hands are with the pumping blood of your family's. Annika has a brown scarf wound around her neck and her face all smiles and laughter. Sam is wearing blue, her favorite color. You can't imagine her not in blue.

That day, you eat warm, cinnamony street food and sit on park benches, watching ducks swim by in the water. You giggle and point to them, shrieking with the high laughter of childhood and innocence. Looking back on it, what did Annika and Sam have to laugh about?

But they did. They laugh along with you like ducks are the funniest jokes in the world.

* * *

You're five years old, and you stare into the mirror, looking at your hair. It's long and strawberry blonde, falling limply down to your back.

You're convinced Annika's fingers are magic, because as they weave through your hair, twisting the three sections into one, you think it looks beautiful.

"When do I get hair like yours and Sam's?" you ask once she's finished, tiny fingers running lightly over Annika's golden hairline.

Annika laughs and hugs you tight, for reasons you don't quite understand. "Someday, pumpkin. Now, are you going to be late for school today?"

"No, ma'am!" you reply immediately. You would never _dream_ of being late on your first day of kindergarten. After all, you're a big girl now, and you to go to school on your own.

You realize that Annika's older too, now. She's going to _high school_. That seems like an eternity away.

* * *

You're eight years and three quarters years old, and you realize for the first time that your family is _unconventional_. You learned that word last week, and you felt proud at knowing such a big word.

You remember clearly when you were telling your new friends about your sisters, and one of them stopped you to ask a question you never wondered about: "Where are your parents?"

You burst home that afternoon, backpack swaying across your thin shoulders and you call to see if anybody's home. Nobody answers. Sam and Annika are both at work. Perfect.

You head straight for Sam's room. You and Annika share a room because Sam works the hardest, with two jobs and no time for being a normal twenty-something. Neither of you mind, because Annika's the sweetest person you could ever wish to room with, and she teaches you about physics and calculus and Shakespeare, even if you don't understand any of it. The fact that she tells you at all makes you feel very included.

You know that Sam has pictures underneath her bed; she takes them out sometimes. She was seventeen (Annika's age now, you realize with a start) when your father was shot to death and your mother just _left_. Annika was ten and you were one. You don't remember anything and Annika doesn't like to remember it.

Even this sparse bit of information was beguiled out of your sisters over a long time, through eavesdropped conversations and carefully asked questions. They don't like to talk about it, but you want to know. It's one thing to have parents who aren't there, but it's another to have ones who never even existed in your mind and memory.

You find the pictures and look at them, read the curly writing on the back that tells you, yes, that tiny baby in the kind woman's arms is you.

But your favorite pictures are the ones with Annika and Sam. You like seeing Sam as a gangly teenager, which too long limbs and a pimply face. And Annika looks like you, you realize. Maybe there's hope for you after all.

You do this many times over the years. The pictures are never dusty, because Sam looks at them a lot, too, though she'd never admit to such a thing. She pretends that their parents never existed, an idea that Annika is more than happy to go along with. You look at the pictures, but not too much. Sam would be suspicious.

Later that night, after Sam and Annika are home, Sam is curled up on the small, worn-down couch with a book, and Annika and you are in your room, laying stomach-down on her bed and looking at the stars. She tells you all the constellations, and you rest your head against her shoulder, exhaling softly. She's warm and comfortable and you're sleepy.

"Annika?"

"Yeah, pumpkin?"

"Tell me about Mom and Dad."

Her muscles tensed. "What do you want to know?"

"Were they nice? What did they do for working? Did Mom make pancakes like Sam does?" You roll onto your back to look at your sister a little better.

Annika sighs and brushes a curl out of your face. "They were very nice. Dad fixed things for other people, and Mom sold magazines and newspapers. No, Mom was never very good at cooking, Dad was the chef." A wistful smile slowly grows across her lips, and you close your eyes, because she looks a little sad and you don't like your sisters sad.

"Time for bed," Sam calls from the doorway, holding a hand out for you. You bound over to her and forget about your parents. You don't need them; your sisters are all you need.

* * *

You're twelve and you think you know everything. You're almost in high school, for god's sakes.

Your face is pimply, you're hardly past five foot three, and you still have your strawberry blonde hair. But you're twelve.

You call a family meeting and announce that you should pull your weight in this family, hands on your hips and chin jutted out, a posture you learned from Sam. Sam and Annika, both in their twenties by now, laugh a little bit, but give you the jobs of making dinner and cleaning up around the house. You gladly accept.

When you were five, you didn't realize that Sam fell asleep in the middle of reading almost every night or that Annika was working harder at her job than her school. But at twelve, you know that Sam deserves a life outside of her baby sisters and Annika deserves to go to college. You know it's kind of pointless, but you think that by doing small things, you can make them less stressed and happier.

You find a recipe for chocolate chip cookies on the back of a back of chocolate chips in the store, and you spend your savings on the supplies. You ignore your homework and make a double batch that night, so they're piping hot when Annika and Sam stumble in through the rainy weather. It's the best dinner you've ever made, and their grins with melted chocolate dripping down their lips is worth every last penny you saved up.

* * *

You're fourteen, and high school is much different than you ever thought it would be. There's more people, your bag is heavier, the boys try to get you to have sex, and you realize that your sisters are your happiness.

Now it's you staying up late with homework and you try to do it quickly, because Sam and Annika are working so hard for you. They just want the best for you, and you want the best for them.

Annika wants you to go to college, so she can get a better job. "And take care of ol' Sam and me," she jokes, but you know it's not a joke. They're wear themselves out before their time, and you don't want that to happen. You want them around forever.

You feel guilty asking Annika for help with your English homework, but you do it anyways, because you just don't understand what Romeo's going on about, and you know she does. She smiles at you over the battered binding and Sam laughs, and you don't care about Romeo anymore. You only care about Annika and Sam.

* * *

And now you're seventeen and you're about to graduate high school. Your hair isn't strawberry blonde anymore, but the same silky texture that Annika said it would be when you started your first day of kindergarten. You understand the physics and calculus and Shakespeare that she'd told you about, and you realize that Sam's in her thirties.

But you're going to college in the fall, and you'll get your degree, and you'll get a good job, and you'll take care of Annika and Sam when they're too tired to work anymore. You'll brush their hair and bake them cookies to ease the pain of the weight of age and raising a little girl into a young woman. You think it's finally time to start repaying them for everything they've sacrificed for you.


End file.
